Nameless
by Mika the Supreme Ninja
Summary: Lost without a name, memories or even the knowledge of what he was, The Nameless boy walks a lonely path. War and Carnage and deepest suspicion fills the world around him. His flesh is clearly marked, service to one who stole his name. Each memory returned only offers greater pain, enslavement and a promise for more. Maybe it would better to forget, maybe it's not his choice.
1. False awakenings

"My Head... what... what happened?" Standing, the sharpness of the cold ground acted as potently as a jolt of lightning, shattering exhaustion and bringing the world around him into perfect clarity. "Wow... how did I end up here?" For miles and miles, the visage of cold barren mountain filled the world. Snow and frost covered everything, even air itself, giving the world an ethereal glimmer that he could not help but appreciate. A smile made it's way across his face, his eyes following the delicate crystals in the air. "Beautiful."

Though he knew that he had spoken, the potent winds obscured his voice entirely, filling his mouth with cold and ears with a wail. Odd as it was, it amazed his simple mind.

_'Simple... why would I call myself simple? Why would I call myself anything... who am I?' _Pain exploded in his temples, his hands recoiling to embrace his aching head, only to meet something crusted onto his skin. Somehow he knew the answer. "Blood... I... blood... what happened to me?'

Shaking, and not from the cold, he whipped around, desperate to take in the world around him. To search for someone, anyone, who may have the answers he sought so desperately. There was no one in sight, he was alone on the mountain, unsure and terrified.

"Alone... " he whispered, like a prayer, desperate for anyone to help him, for him not to be alone. "Alone... "

He would have, could have stood there for countless hours, however the cold and winds picked up. Painful beyond reason, they ravaged his body, leaving him almost breathless. It was only then that he realized that he was nearly naked, with only something that could barely pass for leggings covering up his decency. Not even boots or shoes covered his feet. In such weather, as he was, he would freeze and become food for any predator around.

"Shelter, I need shelter... and food and fire...Can I even make fire?" He trotted away, even as he spoke, slow and weak like an old man. His joints ached with an unfamiliar infirm not unlike a rheumatic. His extremities tingled, as if they did not have enough heat or blood. His skull still pounded with a terrible fury, a fury that doubled with each terrible step he took across the solid ground of the mountain.

What felt like an eternity passed for him before he found a cave, new blood dripped from his face and fell onto the stones beneath him. Wind and crystal had carved shapes upon his brow leaving him in even greater agony then before and yet he felt hopeful. The cave was considerably warmer then the outside, though still frigid in it's own right. Shaking, he hurried to the most distant part of the cave, barely able to bend his knees enough to painfully land on the ground.

"Please, don't be winter." Groaning, he curled inward, and focused on his breathing, trying to conserve his waning heat and strength. A seemingly impossible task, but one he was dedicated to. '_By the gods, it's like trying to catch water with a sack. No matter how much I tie the bag, it is always leaking.' _

Sensation faded from his limbs, and blotches of black and purple appeared around his vision.

Tears made their ways into his eyes and he burrowed further into his own chest. '_I am going to die... alone... cold... without my memories... or even a name... what a way to go... what god did I offend to be cursed with such a fate? Ha... Whomever I angered... I am sorry and hope that you will relent... or if not I hope that whatever I did was worth this suffering...'_

Like the setting sun, gone in a flash into the waiting night sky, so too did his consciousness fade into the shadows of sleep and cold.

::::

"What it is?" Gruff and cold, like a boar given the power of speech, a voice echoed in the void of shadow. It stirred the Nameless, giving him purpose and an anchor, something to perch upon and pull himself slowly back into consciousness out of sheer instinct. "Human? It smells dead." A strange huffing sound rummaged around the void, wet and rugged. "Mmm... it smells almost rotten. Do you think it is good to eat?"

'_What accent is that? Is it even human... no... no human sounds like that...' _Somehow, the Nameless child managed to pry open it's eyes, an agonizing process as ice had made a home across his face, forged from his own blood. Still, no sound escaped his lips, such a thing would take too much energy, energy he lacked. '_It sounds like a boar, or a goat... ' _

Focusing hard, he realized that he could feel the beasts approaching him, a thunderous pounding of their massive bodies against the frozen earth. They radiated so much warmth that he felt it... tasted it even.

'_Strange... the air it now tastes...like heat, sunshine... ' _A new shiver washed through his body, one ruled by something vastly unlike the col. He did not have words to describe the sensation, only that it was setting a change in his body, something primal. Something... inhuman.

Rough hands, radiating even greater heat, grasped him roughly, yanking him into the air with a distinct lack of mercy. "Yes, human, though runty. Could make for a meal." Breath, stinking of rot and that same heat washed over his face.

Energy returned in bounds, too much, his muscles tightened with want.

"I need it." He whispered, a sound haunting and cold, far too animalistic for comfort. His eyes cleared and strange light covered the beasts before him, the brightest of which lay around the heart. The strange light made it hard to tell what they were but that mattered little, he knew what he wanted. "I want your warmth... give it me." With all he was, all he had, he threw himself out of the beast's grasp and latched onto it, holding onto with impossible strength. The sound of shattering ribs filled his ears, even as blood filled his mouth.

At some point, he had bitten the beast. It felt natural, right, and with the influx of blood and heat, clarity became a moot point. All that mattered was the hunt, the feed, the delicious blood flooding his body.

'_It tastes like copper, salt and meat... ' _Like purest power, the might of the gods themselves, he felt himself gain in strength. His limbs were limber, his joints loose, the muscles strong. The need to breathe was the only thing stronger then the desire to drink, and so he eventually pulled away, in time to fly across the cave as a harsh food slammed into his side.

"Demon!" The voice was harsh, guttural and it drew his attention. The light from before had faded slightly, and so he could see the beast better. It was tall, taller then he was by far, with horns and grey skin. It's teeth was crooked and yellow, but more then that it was filled with a fear that was as exciting as the heat and blood had been.

Twisting his head downwards, towards his previous meal, the nameless boy realized that it was of the same ilk as the beast. The beasts was not breathing, it's eyes were glossy and blood seeped from the wound on it's neck as well as from it's twisted lips. He expected that such a sight would invoke pity, fear, or hate in him... all that came was satisfaction.

And Hunger.

Rising from his crouch position, the Nameless boy tipped towards the other beast, unable to stop a smirk as it stepped back in fear. Words did not tempt their way out of his throat, instead a sound more like a cat came, a predatory purr that did not match his small form.

"Why is it, that you a beast nearly thrice my size, looks so afraid... you were going to eat me just a moment before?" He looked up, genuinely curious, hopeful for some kind of response. "Do you know what I am? Who I am? I don't... can you help me?"

The beast took another step back, snarling. "Your a demon, unnatural, a beast of magics." It spat at him, sneering. "You reek of something far worse then any human rat."

"Why do you speak the Human tongue... Urgal… that's... that's what you are... I remember... " Kneeling lightly, feeling terrible power filled his calves, the Nameless boy gave a smile. "Thank you, had you and your friend not come here... I … I would have died... I think... so... from the heart, I thank you for this service, I will never forget this blessing... "

The world blurred around him as he launched towards the beast, It flailed and attempted to bat him away, but such a move was pointless, he had aimed low in his launch and landed on it's groin where a bright patch of warmth existed, a patch that he somehow knew would give him that heat he needed, he craved. His teeth found perch and the beast bellowed, even as it collapsed on it's rump. Be it from pain or the force of his body, the Nameless boy did not know or care.

Several blows crashed against the boy's skull, each weaker then the last as the Urgal began to die. Despite the pain, he held on and fed and fed, the pleasure of the delicious liquid heat too great to be overcome. Soon enough, the beast stopped hitting him and collapsed, twitching and breathing heavily. Soon, the beast died and that was when the Nameless boy pulled away, heavy with consumed blood, satiated and warm enough.

Absently, he grabbed the beasts legs and pulled it further into the cave, setting it next to it's fallen brethren. The Nameless boy kneeled down, pressing a kiss to each forehead.

"It might mean little to you, but I meant what I said... thank you for this gift. I thought I was going to die... and now... now I have hope." A sense of mourning, respect and honor overcame him, even as he rummaged over the bodies. From their corpses, he managed to take a dagger form from some kind of horn, a strange pouch made of something leathery, a massive bow, their massive boots, and of course their loincloths... even if he had bitten through one of them.

Slowly, he wrapped the loin clothes around himself, thankful for his small form, for it allowed him to create some kind of vestments. A cowl and a scarf that would, or so he hoped, conserve his heat and strength in the cold. The boots took some more effort, but thankfully they were laced and he was able to steal the laces from one set of boots, making the boots as tight as he could make them. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it would do well enough. Thankfully both Urgals had socks, made of some kind of wool, and wearing both sets at once filled some of the gap, lessening the chance for blisters.

Or, so he hoped.

"I wish I knew your names... for I would take them for myself, to honor you for your gift of life, a gift I will not waste... pity... I still need a name... perhaps I will get one... " Smiling, he stood and marched towards the mouth of the cave, where the weather had eased considerably. It was day time, meaning he had only been sleeping for a short time... or that he had slept for at least a day. "I have at least one goal, now... that is better then before... I wish to find out who I am, what I am... but... first, I must find a village. Perhaps I may find some answers there, or at least more comfort... " Smiling despite the grim crawl before him, he turned his gaze towards the ground, seeing prints of his own newly stolen boots tracing a path on the snow. "And now I am not lost... I really do owe you thanks..."

Knowing he had only so long until the beasts returned, the Nameless boy marched on the path of his most recent meal, knowing somehow that they might be his last meal for some time. Other beasts might not be so fearful of him, and thus it would be that much harder to kill them and easier for them to kill him. They would be looking for him, like all beasts filled with hunger and a will to live searched for prey.

Absently, as he traveled down, a strange thought came to him, one so potent he almost fell from the cliff side.

'_Look for me... what do I even look like? Would I look like food? Would I look like prey? Am I even human... or...' _

The lack of an answer speed his movements, and he knew that beyond anything else other then shelter and food, he wanted to find a mirror or something reflective. Minor though it might seem, he wanted to know what he looked like.

He wanted to know what he was as much as he wanted to know who he was. After all, no human could do what he just did...

'_Nor could Elf or Dwarf... I think...' _

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**I am actually really proud of this, it is interesting and fun and different from any of my other works. He is inspired from many characters, including Saphira yes... **

**I hope you can see some of the inspiration but also understand his motives and such. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	2. Attempts, Dreams and Names

_'I was blessed indeed... These Urgals are huge, the ones I consumed must have been young.' _The Nameless child allowed his eyes to roam over the countless Urgals walking peacefully about their day, none seeming angry or agressive. They seemed peaceful, quiet and content... and almost all of them were nearly a foot larger then the Urgals he had slain. Their bodies bulkier, considerably more muscular, even the women. '_They were young, very young... sigh... thank you again, Urgals, for the gift of your lives.'_

Fear, familiar fear, started to sink in as his eyes turned towards a mass of heat. Like miniature suns, they walked in from an unseen part of the village. Waves of heat washed of them in a ray of reds and yellows and whites, overtaking the blue and cold landscape. He did not have a word for them in his broken memories, only a nameless fear that defied words.

'_Those... I would be ripped apart easily at their hands.' _His eyes turned skyward just as they finally appeared in full form, out of Mist thickened by the cold. '_I would be ripped apart by those horns...' _Shivering, the Nameless boy pulled himself away from the cliff edge, stepping back until his entire back was snug against the rock. '_I need more clothes, and only a child's clothes would fit me comfortably but I cannot see any of those parents not ripping me apart. Urgals and humans hate each other that much I can remember.'_

Sighing, He shivered as a frigid wind washed over him. '_How they managed to build such a large settlement is beyond me? It is hidden snugly in this cliffside, without my heat sight, I would be entirely unable notice them... and without my strength I could never have crossed those gaps.'_

His eyes turned to the very gaps he had just thought about, massive cliffs jutting out of the mountain side separated by dozens of feet. No mere human could scale such gap, more proof that he himself was not human. It wasn't easy for him, his loose fitting boots made it a terrifying landing, but he had managed to scale the rock and land directly above the Urgal village, where the rich sent of thick meaty stew, sweating men and of course delicious blood rose upwards. It was alluring and strong, the scent of civilization, the promise of potential peace and comfort. He had almost tossed himself down the mountain, eager to feed and sleep comfortably after three days of difficult travel.

'_I will have to_ wait_ until night fall... and hope their guard is light... ' _

Gazing skyward, the Nameless boy watched as the Sun descended towards the distant mountains, behind what seemed to be a veil of trees that filled the small valley around the village before him. From his perch he could see birds and squirrels, tiny movements that became intensely clear for the briefest of moments. It hurt when that happened, a burning shot through his eyes each time and yet he could not stop it or force it to begin. Like with the Heat he saw, this happened without thought.

Within the forest, due to the drawing nature of his vision he was able to trace to paths of various Urgals throughout the woods. It was a strange thing, he could not see the Urgals but knew without doubt that they were there. He could see their heat and the path of disturbances left by their mere presence.

'_They called me a demon, a beast born of magic... if that is what I am, what sired me? What has the power to create such a beast as I? I know that my proweress are not that of a human but how do I know that if my memories are gone? How do I know everything... ' _Frustrated and annoyed, he curled more into himself and turned his attentions back to the sky. '_Nighttime will be here in a few hours... I should get sleep before then... and hope I am not found before then.'_

Slowly, the scent of food and blood lulled the Nameless boy into a light, bare sleep.

...

_"You still live... impressive." _

_A voice, cold and familiar, echoed in the voids of dreams. The Nameless child drifted along this voice, something wrapped around his from in sticky, unyielding layer. All he could do was float and attempt to squirm to freedom. _

_"Yes, struggle, it delights me... prove your worth, child. Prove your blood. Too much time was wasted to give you purpose, you are not allowed to disappoint me yet. Not until I have seen all that you are capable of." _

_Desperate and terrified, the Nameless boy screamed out. "Who are we?" The word we was not was he intended, but as the word echoed across the veil of sleep, he knew it was exactly what he needed to say. _

_The Voice laughed. "You are whatever I need you to be... my sweet, sweet Yomir." _

_Laughter and pain exploded as he tried to fight the power of the name that claimed him, yanking him out of the void and back into the land of the waking. _

"GAh...hheh…" Shivering, the Nameless boy held his hands out, desperately flexing his fingers and toes, each to be free from the cloying, terrifiying void. "I am fine... it wasn't real... it... Yomir… that... my name... Yomir… that... sounds right... I am Yomir…"

The words wrapped around him, with a power he could not explain and with them a happy weight came to him. He felt more solid, more real, less like a specter or demon and more like a living being. It was strange, powerful and encouracing… but also, like all good things, it came with a trapping he could not explain. A loss of freedom, a defining that was not his to make.

'_What was that man...' _Shivering in terror and the desire to eat and of course, the bitter cold, Yomir rose from his perch. '_Time to feed.'_

Stepping to the edge of the cliff, Yomir bent and tied his laces as tightly as he could, having no desire to slip and fall to his death. As he straightened his back, he allowed his knees to bend into a firm stance and felt power flood through his calves. He allowed his gaze to land on a large tree, one more then half of the cliff side beneath him. A Branch, wider then he was thick, stripped of it's needles. Somehow he knew he would and could make the landing.

With a simple push, he flew through the air, the cold sting shook all traces of sleep from his frigid limbs. Like he assumed, the branch was reached, though perhaps due to inexperience and poor planning, he over shot the branch by a good few feet.

"NO!" The scream was strangled by the pine needles smacking into his face as he struggled and grasped for anything to slow his fall, hopefully enough so that he was no heard. "COme one." With a screech and snap, the only branch he managed to grasp cracked under his weight and sent him tumbling towards the ground. However, the many branches and needles he smacked into seemed to slow down his fall just enough so that the cold ground did not break his body... too much.

He rolled away from the tree, gasping for breath that just wouldn't come, fighting black spot that danced across his vision. "Agrhh… I... ow..." He was not sure how long he lay on the ground, but eventually he managed to rise and stumble towards the tree he fell through. He could trace a painful path of damage bark, where his body ( Mostly his back) had carved it's way down.

Blood, hot and cold all at once, dripped down his back as he moved, exhausted, towards the village. With the Heat Sight, Yomir saw no change in movements. The Village was dormant, save for a handful of guards that did not seem to notice him or the sounds he had made. For that he thanked the gods, whichever gods would listen.

Shaking in the cold, losing blood, he realized that he had to act quickly and feed less he bleed out.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**Not long chapters I know but I am trying to get in the spirit of the style. It is different from my typical style and format. **

**I love Yomir though he is a lot of fun!**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord,**

**Mika. **


	3. A sliver of history, a new command

With almost feline grace, Yomir shot across the empty glen, keeping low even as he trudged through the snow. He felt himself fall into a trance, the pain and hunger and desperation washing aside as a much greater force took over... it was predatory and potent and he embraced it thoroughly. The world fell away and only shapes and obstacles remained and he knew how to do what he needed and did not care what it would take.

Power boiled in his limbs and he unleashed it with a level of unease, nearly tripping despite the trance, and tossed himself towards the wall. The impact sent purest agony through his still bleeding back, but he ignored it as best he could, focusing on climbing with a skill...

He clearly lacked.

_'Clearly not all aspects of physical survival come naturally to me after all.. hehe..'  
_

The thought lasted for a moment before being swept aside by the intense concentration that had beset him once again, and soon he found himself over the wall only to slip on a harsh patch of ice. The wind was agonizing as he fell towards the ground, his poor back screamed in pain... but despite that, he managed to force himself to land feet first. He slipped to his knee, ignoring the cold as he attempted to recover from the agony.

Slowly, very slowly, he managed to rise again and slowly slunk behind the nearest structure, aiming to hide and escape the sudden sense of exposure that overtook him the moment his pain began to dull. Whispers carried upon the wind, of Urgals questioning the sounds they had clearly heard in at least some capacity. The cold of the night dimmed their light, their heat enough that he could barely trace their path. With urgency he managed to rush towards the next house, using the momentum of his sprint to leap into a slightly open window.

_'Clever, clever boy.' _ Fear and cold beyond reason slithered into his mind the moment he landed softly in the Urgal's home as the voice from his nightmare returned. '_You are learning faster then I anticipated... perhaps you will prove worthy after all.' _

"No! I..."

Pain and greed slammed through his heart next, leaking from the monster in his head. '_You will be whatever I want you to be, my dear Yomir. I own you, never forget that.' _

_"_I DON"T-" Turning on heel, he grabbled his temples and attempted to rush out of the damn village, sprinting past a dim fire place, only to slip on a something. '_Please, get out of my head!' _The words echoed through his mind, insiting only laughter from the monster that lived in his soul.

Pain and darkness exploded from his forehead and sleep took him once more, forcing him to return to the void within, where that beast lived.

_'Not so clever afterall… still, I cannot hold your fear of my power against you, can I? It is natural for one such as you to fear one such of me, even if you do not remember who or what I am.' _

_In his mind in the void, Yomir shivered as the words slammed against him like the wind in the mountains… only, this time, there was no shelter from their sapping frigid power. _

_'Please... what did I do... why are you doing this?' He only expected mocking, cruel laughter and vague answers that did little to really help him. _

_The world changed, the empty void exploded into color and suddenly he was sitting in a cell, chained to the wall facing a terrifying man. Taller then most with blood red hair and eyes, his skin had a nasty sallow tint. Everything about him seemed to be sinking inward, his skin, his cheeks, even the light around him. Like his very existence sapped the world of it's light and purpose, as if to sustain himself he had to take from all others. This was only matched by his black and red cape which seemed to flicker and flap on it's own, almost as if it was alive. _

_His cruel smile, decorated with fangs, only served to emphasize this unnatural, predatory, parasitic presence. _

_"Hello, Yomir." His voice had changed, losing it's whispery aura and taking on a much stronger, fuller presence. It was no longer an echo, like someone screaming from miles and miles away. The sounds was rich and almost velvety, firmly grounded in reality. "It has been far too long since you and I have truly looked upon each other." _

_Shaking and terrified, Yomir managed to bark out. "I don't even know your name... and I didn't even know my name until you told it to me." _

_"Ah yes, that... I am afraid that was my doing... as for why... well, it doesn't matter for the moment." Leaning down, the man pressed a long, boney finger against Yomir's forehead, it was beyond agonizing. Threads like lightning shot through his consciousness and he could do nothing to stop it, collapsing fully when Durza released him. "There... that should clear a few of your questions." _

_"What are you AHHHHHHHHH!" The same agony bombarded him as it had before but this time it was accompanied by tiny flickers, like fading embers, dancing across his vision. _

_He saw a boy, small and frail, shivering next to two adults, both missing various limbs and pieces of flesh. The women, who stood to the boy's left, was missing her right ear and a section of her bottom lip and yet she still seemed in charge, carrying herself with the same haughtiness as any noble bitch. Behind them was an odd collection of buildings, tall _

_"As you ask for, Lord Durza." With her right arm, which ended as a stump, she shoved the small boy forward. "He is honored to join your service, as we all are." Her smile was an unnatural sort of thing, and it left Yomir terrified even if the image didn't seem to focus on her for more then a moment or two, shifting itself towards the boy with unnatural clarity. _

_Wearing only a pair of trousers, everyone one of the boy's ribs showed in contrast to his distended belly. His hair had been shaved off, all of it, even his eyebrows. There was no hope in his eyes, only a clear terror that came from one who knew exactally what evil it was about to face. _

_The image shifted, as if kneeling, and an all too familiar voice spoke to the boy. "And what is your name, child?" _

_Said child shivered and barely managed to look into Yomir's own eyes. "Yo... Yomir, M'Lord." _

_The image faded, and he saw the man he now knew as Durza, smirking at him with insanity and excitement. " Do you see? You and I have been well aquainted for... well, many years by your measuring." _

_"I was a slave... you bought me...is...is that right?" He kept his words low, almost a perfect replica to the sound his younger self had made. "Why are you doing this?" _

_Durza just hummed for a moment. "I admit, I never intended for you to end up on the mountain... that was an accident, I was... distracted by other pursuits. I never expected you to survive as you have, so callously murdering others to sustain your own needs... it was too much for me not to enjoy. Be proud, so few things can reinvigorate my interest once I have decided to cast it away. Now, wake up little bird, there is much you need to accomplish if I am going to allow you to live." _

_As if his words was backed by the same power he stole, they slammed into Yomir and lifted him from the void and back into the waking world. _

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was a fun chapter and I think it really showcased just what Yomir actually is... his story is actually quite interesting. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	4. Slave within and without

Cold air and a rough wool served to awaken Yomir to the cruel world about him. He jolted upright, shaking and shivering and expecting agony to befall him but found that for the first time since awoke on the mountain, he was entirely physically comfortable... cold aside. "What... how... is this wool?" Pulling his hands out of the blankets around him, he grasped the fabric, taking in the scratchy but warm fabric in near awe.

It was only when he heard a rough crackle, that he shifted his attention outward.

The room was large, wooden and there was a beautiful fire in the center. It radiated a gentle heat that he barely felt, but could see wafting through the room. Carvings covered the walls, each of various types of animals... birds of prey and wolves and bears... animas he had never seen but somehow knew of with vivid detail. He could almost hear their calls, feel their cries... he knew of them well. A Rug, much like the one he had tripped on, lay in front of the fire. It was layered in the most beautiful and ornate colors, each one impossibly vivid. The love woven into each and every fiber was intense, the patience, the skill... it was a lot.

"Beautiful..."

And it was, even afraid and hungry as he was becoming, he felt the beauty of this place much as he saw it. The dressers carved from delicate wood, horns twisted and carved into decorative pieces. Animal skins dipped and dyed and drawn upon to create wonderous pieces of art, mostly depicting war and conflict. It was brutal and violent, honoring the simplicity of life and death, a concept newly close to his heart...

Brutal but beautiful.

"Thank you." The voice that made him jump came closer and closer, the clattering of her thick feet ( for it was definitely a her) signaled her approach. Soon she was entirely in the fire's light. Taller then any man, her face was thick and rounded with a harsh grey color to her face, beautiful black horns spiraled around her face in a much more delicate manner then the other Urgals he had slain. Her eyes were still boarish, yellow and primal... but again there was a clear trace of beauty about them. Her hair was long and grey, falling past her shoulders in a braid.

She looked like a Goddess of the Hunt, wise, primal and powerful.

"Your welcome..."

She smiled, sitting next to him, a strange _Gragra_ sound coming from her throat. "Not many humans would ever consider my home, my people beautiful... and yet that is what you just did." Her voice held a clear accent, this was not her first tongue, but listening to her speak made it clear that she could speak it as clearly as he could. She had a gift for languages, one he instantly envied.

"Beauty is beauty, it doesn't matter who...wait... you just said that you..." He shivered, recoiling away from the women even as he felt the same power from earlier return, burning into his limbs, shaking off his comfort and making him hyperaware. "You were in my thoughts?"

That odd _Gragrah_ sound burst from her throat. "Few would have noticed that. You are wise beyond your years, a warrior in mind if not body... " That sound came from her again and he finally realized that it was akin to laughter. Then it stopped and fear returned, a fear that doubled when she turned her eyes entirely on him. "We found you in one of our homes, bleeding and near death. You slipped past our guard and apparently down a tree... after slaying two of our kin... we should have killed you on sight."

He shivered, then went cold as his heat stretched to his arms and legs. Some part of his soul started to imagine flying at her, ducking low to avoid her horn, latching onto her back and using his strength to choke her out... he measured the distance perfectly and knew that he would make it...

_'But at what cost?' _

The Words came to him, and he knew they were not his own.

He flew across the room, reaching the fireplace before collapsing as waves of sheer exhaustion overtook him. "What... why... how..."

"Magic by your tongue." The Urgal female strode towards him, kneeling enough to grasp his chin, raising it towards her. "I am a shaman, I bear the gift of magic. My name is Herndall Reygua and you are a threat to my people... and yet you may of use. I can smell the radiance of the Shade's magic upon your skin. You have been blessed by him!" Her tone had shifted, an animalistic growl. Hate filled it, and the longer she spoke the less human she sounded. As if it had taken a great effort to sound human, to sound like a person. "Why shouldn't I rip you apart you lacked-horned teat suckling, yellow bellied leech! You betrayed him, left his side for your own selfish needs!"

Tight claws clamped across his throat... and he understood.

'_This is why she saved me... she wanted to see me awake, so she could enjoy my suffering...'_

Then it stopped, the women's claw turned into a soft brush against his cheek. She pulled him from the floor, into her warm arms, setting him down against the bed. Whispered words sent warmth through his injured throat.

"We are not monsters, despite what your people believe. You are a child, and I read your mind...you killed our cubs but only to feed. You do not remember Durza, and for that and that alone I will allow you to live. You will stay here. We serve the great Durza here and you shall be the same." She brushed his head once more, then left, slowly and sweetly.

It was in that moment that he realized something horrible...why she did not sound like the younger Urgal's he had slain, why she sounded far too human, why he almost recognized her voice, why she had the power to so easily subdue him with magic, why she seemed so erratic and irrational one moment and entirely composed the next...

'_Durza is working through her, just as he had done with me...'_

Fear only exploded within him as the Shade's distant laughter returned to his mind, along with the words '_Look into a mirror... ' _

Shaking, he moved his gave, desperately trying to find such an object. It only took a moment, he found what he sought in the far side of the room, towards the door. Slowly, he moved towards it, free from the gaze of Herndall Reygua. Horrified, he stalled just shy of the mirror, almost unable to even take the chance.

It was only Durza's mocking laughter that got him to stare directly at himself, and when he did all of his hope evaporated and he consigned himself to his fate.

Red hair covered his once bald dome, the same shade as Durza's as were his eyebrows. His skin was almost see through, with countless veins visible behind it. His eyes were haunted, with deep black bags and bloodshot veins throughout his eyes. Broken bloodvessels covered his face, decorating his cheekbones. He was almost as small as he had once been, only this time he was covered in a thin layer of muscle and scars. Hundreds of scars...

Many, many of which were clearly self inflicted.

"Why could I not see these before..." He allowed his hands to roam, touching the scars... and he realized, absently, that most of them had been covered with crusted blood before. "What did I do to myself?" Then he saw them, scars thick and agonizing and all too familiar thanks to his recent visit with Durza. " How long... how long did I have... how long was I chained to that wall..."

Laughter, cold and cruel filled his mind, leaving him to his horror with one more message.

_"Remember, Little Bird, keep my interest. Powerful though you are, even you cannot fight your way through an army of Urgals, especially when I am at their head. Keep my interest... if you wish to continue living.' _

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.**

**This was a fun, short and powerful chapter that I think has set up his story well. I cannot wait to flesh it out more and more!**

**What is he?**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord,**

**Mika.**


	5. Training and Fighting

Standing stock still, Yomir felt the rough strappings of leather armor being woven and measured upon his body. He was smaller, drastically, then near any Urgal even when compared to the children. It was a hard thing to do, predator letting other predator touch and maneuver their body but this was an order straight from Durza himself, so he had little choice but to obey the bastard and allow the touches.

"How much longer?" He asked, his body aching for another drop of the delicious warmth he so craved. He knew that he would be satiated soon enough, but the mere thought was too much for his body at the moment. The heat wafting off of the tailors was a hammer to his heart, increasing his cravings a hundred fold with each breath, so he started to breath out of his mouth only.

The tailor, a burly looking Urgal with a gruffer face then even the average Urgal, made a _FraFra_ sort of sound in the back of his throat before replying. "Midday at best. Not used to crafting for Lack horns." His common tongue was embarrassingly poor, and he made no attempts at conversation, Hendall Ryuga was definitely an exception to the rule of poor speech among the Urgals.

He suspected that many if not all of them communicated more with grunts, growls and aggressive acts.

'_Can I growl...hmm... I need to see if that is something I am capable of since I am clearly not human.' _

Smiling at that notion, he turned to his tailor and sighed.

_'I wonder what I am to do after this...'_

He found that answer out quickly, as in the moment he left the Tailor he was forced into brutal training. As if he was any other Urgal, he was forced to run a terrible gauntlet of obstacles. Muddy and disgusting with potholes, rocks, roots and dead logs cover it, the trail was designed to make one think quickly and avoid anything at a moments notice. It was an incredibly simple training tool, but a powerful one. It would have destroyed a lesser man, a lesser child, a lesser dwarf... but he was anything but such a thing. He was a monster, son of a monster and he was determined to thrive!

"THis… is... hard. Pant..." Gasping for breath, he had managed to outpace the average Urgal, but fall just behind the powerful Kull. He realized that in terms of speed he was about half of that of a Kull due to their bounding strength. "But fun." A massive wall, maybe four or five times his own size, covered the middle of the track. Covered in spikes and made of roughly hewn wood. It was an impressive sight, a powerful challenge.

It didn't matter as the Kulls literally threw themselves over, a horrifyingly impressive sight before him. Their massive bodies flying through the air like ballista shots, only a thousand times more deadly.

He stalled, almost getting trampled by an Urgual, who turned to growl at him, only to recoil at the loud feline hiss that escaped Yomir's chest in an instant and without warning.

'_Hisses not growls... noted.'_

Familiar power shot through him and he charged the now terrified Urgal, not stopping even as he leaped, using the beast' knee to launch himself easily over the wall... only to panic when he saw the ground coming towards him fast.

_'Knees bent, roll into it... move!'_

A fierce hiss left his lips as he managed to roll through the mud, even with the odd limiting leather tied tightly to his body, pain following suit as all of the blood in his body shot and filled his small skull, only relieving itself when he managed to stand and continue his sprint, unsure and dizzy.

'_Not as strong as an Kull, but still strong... I wonder... what are my limits? What can I do... can I push myself further?' _

Seeing a Kull not far from him, feeling the powerful thunderous stampede of their powerful legs, he decided to test himself and pushed harder then he ever had. Hard and harder, rocketing off of the ground. The curve of the track made it hard to keep his feet steady, but still he shot as fast as he could... and slowly he managed to pass a Kull...

One at first... then two... then three... and soon only two Kull were ahead of him and they were breathing hard, not as hard as he was, but still hard.

The end of the track could not come soon enough and he collapsed twenty feet from the end of the track, embracing the horrible cold as a means to ease his achingly hot body...

_'So.. still human in some ways... I am not a perfect being, I think this means I can get faster, stronger... I wonder if being chained to the wall weakened me? How strong would I be otherwise?'_

He was given maybe twenty seconds to think of this before a stick was thrown at him, a stick he barely caught with his weaker left hand. "Why?"

The Kull who came in first growled at him.

"My name is Nar Garzhvog and you are new meat. You will prove your worth in combat, prove that you are worthy of being a member of our tribe despite what the Great Shade says."

The Kull carried a weight of power about him, everyone around looked at him with absolute respect and in that Yomir understood that like Herndall, Nar meant something vastly more important then he could understand as an outsider.

And it was the power in that name that a level of fear came to him, fear and respect.

"Yes, Nar Garhvog. Where do I start to learn?"

The beast smirked even as he stood, or tried to stand as a massive fist swing at him, forcing him to leap back. "Learn now, fight now!"

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**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**I always saw the tribe as being less unified then an army, but still militaristic so this felt natural... like football practice where there is aggression, training and a little abuse to push you forward. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	6. Kitten and Mouse

The thin leather armor was more then likely all that kept Yomir alive as he flew backwards, a harsh massive fist eclipsing his belly. Pain erupted through his chest and for a single moment he was sure he saw the God of Death itself, staring down at him without mercy... then he awoke, in time to dodge the a foot that aimed to stomp on his chest. He scrambled through the mud, slipping and sliding as he attempted to reach the humble stick so easily knocked from his hand.

Pain, a kick, exploded from his chest and sent him scattering away from the stick and from the ground where he landed with a horrible thud. The pain was intense, gasping and burning with his ragged breath. Still, danger and fear overtook any sense of pain and he managed to roll away from the stomps and strikes, using his waning strength to throw himself up by pushing against the mud. Only, he pushed to hard and flew right into his attacker, almost startling even the massive Nar something.

Of course, the beast merely grabbed him by the waist and tossed him away.

This was the creature's great mistake, despite the agony of the throw it finally gave Yomir the chance to land on his feet. Without hesitating he fell low and felt heat rise in his body, the world shifted into greens and blues and all he knew was the power of the heat and hunter melding into one. Strips of lights covered and radiated off of the Nar fellow, focusing mostly around his heart and legs, building and building and Yomir knew what he would do next.

"YEARGH!" The Beast bellowed flying forth at blinding, thunderous speeds. Like a beast of the night, wrapped in rage of war, it lopped towards him...

And all Yomir could do was rush in return, waiting til the last moment to roll to the left, ignoring the disgusting mud and how it felt squishing into his hair and ears and skin, turning with the motion to grab the stick and in a single motion, slammed it hard against Nar's face the moment the beast turned around to face him again.

Splinters of woods and agony radiated everywhere, the pain was so intense Yomir gasped and nearly shouted and sobbed. He felt the pain shot towards his spine, but he held his ground and faced the beast...

Only to be encompassed by a loud booming GarGargGar RukrukRuk sound. A sound he soon realized was laughter.

"For a Lackhorned, you have conviction and strength. Do not forget that strength, or you will die by our hands. Do not forget that truth, Grim Hunter."

With that, Nar something left him, turning on heel and bellowing out orders that Yomir did not bother to listen to as he was stuck trying to not faint from the pain he finally fully felt. Everything ached, his ribs and spine especially. He could feel the cracks in his ribs, top to bottom, every breath a searing agony as they strained to deal with the pain of fighting what should have been a god or demon.

For a long moment he simply stood there, willing his body to recover from the brutal beating he had just endured... but a loud bellowing stopped that.

Weakly managing to open his eyes, Yomir turned to the source of the sound.

Nar something was fighting, really fighting, two other Urugals in brutal combat. The lesser Urugals, not Kulls clearly given the near three feet and hundred pound weight difference. Growling and snarling, they rushed him, lashing out with angry fists and horns. The Nar fellow didn't even bother to dodge, instead taking the time to grab one of the attacker's fists and use his motion to toss him hard into another Urgal, sending both away in a pile of agony that they all heard. It was a terrible sound, the clanging of horns and flesh.

'_I am lucky... he fought me like a mama cat and her kitten. He let me think that I was fierce when in reality I was less of a threat then a mouse... I was lucky... ' _Clenching his fists and shaking, Yomir felt what could only be the predator inside overtake his good sense. '_That will never happen again. He will remember me for what I am. Dangerous and someone to be feared.'_

The Shade's cruel laughter made it clear that Yomir was not the only one who doubted that promise.

_'He will be my first target... no... they will.' _His gaze turned towards the others, those who lay in an agonized pile, unhoned and weaker. They were younger and untrained, but they were still dangerous. '_If I can overcome them without training, I must be dangerous with it. Then I will move on to those who already have experience and training... and then I will topple a Nar, whatever that means...' _

Somehow, with a goal and that realization, Ymoir felt more whole then he could ever remember being. Some part of him finally calmed and with that calm...

He began to live.

* * *

**Chapter end, short but fun! Tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**After this they should start get longer as I let the story shift in a different direction. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	7. Changing with the Moon, Riding to War

**I missed writing this. I love this series but I needed time off so I wouldn't get so caught up in whatever I was feeling and delete this. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was hard worked and fun to write!  
Tell me if you like what I did with Yomir here!  
**

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**A month had passed, one full moon to another, and in that time Yomir found a measure of peace that he never would have suspected. Durza, the vile shade that tormented his soul, rarely spoke to him. Apparently something of note had distracted him and took so much of his attention that he had little time to torment Yomir. Instead of his usual brand of cruelty he ordered the once Nameless boy to work with the Urgals, to strengthen his body and mind and become impressive enough to be worth not killing. **

This was a task Yomir took to with a deep passion, having no desire to end his life even if he was a slave in all but name.

Living amongst the Bolvek Tribe, the strongest and most numerous of the Urgals as he had recently learned, was strange and cathartic. Every day started off with a long run through the forest, practicing and mastering his body by climbing trees and cliffs. Afterwards he would enjoy some sort of heavy food, deer was a common stable as was some sort of meager grains, in the large cave with each table filled to the brim with Urgals of varying sizes and sexes. Men and women, all lived and broke bread together. Of course every few days, Yomir started his days far earlier and went hunting with a troupe of Urgals, bringing back some sort of catch but only after draining it entirely.

No one would eat the deer if that happened, so it always ensured him a large comfortable meal, however Nar Garzhvog did not appreciate this waste of resources and a thorough beating ( in the guise of a spar) ensured that rarely happened more then once a week when he needed to get in a large portion of blood. He did not dare feed on the Urgals, even in combat.

From either place he would move onto training, be it the training fields or during some form of combat. He spent countless hours wrestling, sparring with some form of weaponry (usually with a one handed axe), practicing archery ( which helped during his hunts), or training in the large field Nar Garzhvog had crafted for all of them. His body ached even a month later, the trials of his training ensured that no matter how strong he got he would still struggle, still feel the pain of hard work as he tore through the training.

During the night he studied alongside Herndall Ryuuga, as she educated him in various subjects she knew of. Since he was already literate, a fact that utterly baffled him when he learned this, he spent his time being educated on subjects ranging from herbs and strategy to history and magic...

It was here he struggled more then anything. Despite his intense natural powers, a product of whatever Durza had done to him, there was little he could do with magic. He knew the words of the ancient language that he was taught, he could taste their power on his tongue, but at no point could he tap into the powers within. Even Mind oriented magic seemed beyond him for whatever reason, like a piece of himself was missing. Whenever he tried to put up a front, to stop the mental powers of Ryuua, something seemed to leak out of him in waves, leaving him tired and unfocused and with a horrible ache in his head.

He suspected it had to do with being bound to Durza, having such a monster always tied to your mind could not be safe or healthy, as it was he could always feel the monster's presence almost as clearly as if he was present.

Regardless of the why, this was a source of great disgust in Ryuuga, who sensed a great deal of magic within him.

_"Disgusting, a waste of Nar Durza's power. Draji!" _

Her rants were frequent and filled with nasty words about his intelligence, breeding and value... and yet she never quit, encouraging and demanding that he spend an hour every day focusing on his magic in the form of mediation. She even brought him into her own mind, allowing him to connect with her magic in her desperation for him to manifest some variation of power.

It never happened, not once in the month since he entered their camp...

Despite this, he was at peace. Progress and time acted as a balm to his weary soul, seeing his body gain muscle and new scars, watching his bruises heal over the course of hours, expanding his mind and touching the minds of others. It was incredible to him, proof that in at least some way his life could one day hold independent value. This revelation made life among the Urgals, who hated and feared him for his powers and status, vastly easier. Ignoring their taunts and sneers their rough and dirty tactics became child's play.

Yet, even with all of the good there was quite a bit of bad. For one he saw signs of his Master's influence, a strange quiet and isolation that washed over many of the Urgals, usually at once. Moments of laughter and jeering often faded off as if the magic within them had rose up, knowing his master would not approve. The sounds of their voices changed when this happened, their roughness and brutish tones shifted and were deeply infused with a sense of velvety entitlement. The voice of nobility and sophistication blended with a taste of sadism.

It was a haunting sound, one that filled his very dreams with nightmares and his waking hours with paranoia.

It was, in this tone of voice, that Nar Garzhvog and Herndall Ryuuga spoke to the entire tribe right then, their voices echoing across the stone floor of the cave they all stood in. Nearly two hundred Urgals, Ugralgras as they were called in their own gruff language that he was finally making headway in learning, stood stock still and listened to their leaders speaking. In the front, with many of Higher ranking Urgals, Yomir stood, clad in his leather armor with a bow on his back and an ax strapped to his waist on one side and a dagger to the other.

"War is coming to the world, and we ride towards it." From his higher perch in the cave, Nar Garzhvog bellowed to his people. "We ride to the Far plains, to join our sister tribes Ertex and Frurnen. A great many battles await us, for the honor of the Great Durza is upon is. Once we gather with our brothers and sisters, we march to even greater territories reminding the world why we are to be feared! One tribe, moving as one. We will crush our enemies and win pride, honor and power. We will be given land, to grow fat upon, no longer trapped in this frigid waste of Stavarosk. Free from the humans, monsters who bind and follow us wherever we go, demanding we cut off our horns and play the part of pet!"

_'Elegant but I hear you Durza. Why else would an Urgal speak the common human tongue to a group of Urgals, most of which are still barely capable of speaking said tongue?' _

His slaver did not answer but wave of smugness translated it's way through their connection, heavy and cruel in his mind. A reminder of his power.

The voice of Durza echoed through Herndall Ryuua as well, in a far more complete and defined way then when Nar Garzhvog spoke, he suspected that it had to due with her devotion towards the Shade being more complete. He wondered if she was the person through which the spell was anchored, or was loyal to him before the spellwork affected the Urgals? He had no way to telling at this point.

"Victory will be ours, finally our people will step out of the shadows and march the lands with the pride. We are not mice, not Lacked Horn rats crawling on their bellies begging for power and food. We are the Might Ugragla, powerful and unrivaled! As one tribe we will take back what was owed to us, what was promised us! So fight, brothers, fight for our people and know that even in death you sacrifice will lift the tribe beyond anything it has ever experienced!"

The speeches went on for what felt like an hour, and with the completion of each part, the Urgals cheered with a raucous pause that somehow felt forced. As if the Urgals were puppets, playing their parts just well enough not to garner their own suspicion. Their movements were wooden, a glaze over their shiny yellow eyes.

_'How sad that must be, to live without your own true self, cast as less then a living puppet.' _

When the speeches ended, when then Herndall and Nar stepped off their lofty perches, the various Urgals and Kulls marched out of the door where a hero's farwell was granted them. Dams stood with their children, sweetfaced and innocent despite their dark blood, waving solemn good byes. Many, to his surprise, had tears in their eyes. It was strange, to see such strong spirited being weeping their goodbyes.

_'How much of that is Durza's influence and how much of that is them? Perhaps, one day, I will get to see it?' _

He dearly hoped so.

Once again he held onto that idea, embracing it and gaining a sense of anchorage through it. Though cruel and hateful, he had been deeply curious about the Urgals. Who they really were as a people but thanks to Durza, he would never know the truth._ 'Maybe they would still hate and fear him, or maybe they would gain some respect for me? I have defeated a dozen of them in combat outright, without weapons, and killed two of them before I even started my training. For a people so devoted to combat that has to hold some sort of honor?'_

Without any horses, the train of Urgals made their way down a very specific trail, masked as just the space between roots. With primal speed they carved a path through the snow ridden ground. Beasts of all sorts screeched and fled, he could hear them from more then a mile away as they echoed through the forest. The stench of their fear, a fetid sort of scent not unlike morning breathe, wafted in a dozen currents mixing with the naturally pungent sweat of the Urgals.

Absently, he cursed himself for having drifted out of the speeches, now not knowing just where the hell they were going. Where was the Great Plain? Where were the other tribes? Would they end up reaching one of the many towns he had been taught about, like Carvanhall or Ceunon or would they cut through the Great Forest where the Elves were said to live?

_'I really should have listened...' _Passively, he focused on his connection to Durza, hoping that for once he might pick something of interest up, learning where they were going to go... What crimes they were going to commit, lives they were going to take.

_'I hope I am ready.' _

* * *

"**_Your mind is quite impressive, young Arya. It has been so long since I have been challenged so thoroughly." _The sight of the young, but powerful elf shivering at the sensation of his mind pressing up against her was beyond satisfying for Durza. The sheen of power wavered around the girl, as if his mere presence and the darkness he represented was snuffing out her light. _"Know this, Elf, the longer you resist... the more I will play with you. So, please, continue to fight. As I said it has been a while since I was challenged and do so love a challenge. ' _**

The elf, beautiful and powerful, merely glared at him this time. It was clear from the look in her eyes, the clouding of her presence, that she had gathered enough of her strength to augment her already impressive mental barriers. No magic he wielded would shatter such barriers...and it was clear the girl was aware of that.

_'Well, that is not entirely true...' _He smirked, leaning down to look directly in the girl's flawless slanted green eyes. She didn't flinch, but it was clear that she was afraid if her scent meant anything. '_I could shatter that barrier... however there would be little left of your mind. You'd be left an invalid, squalling and unable to so much as feed yourself. Do you want that? No, very well. It wouldn't do for my guest to be drooling on the ground. I have other ways to persuade you to speak your truths, be sure of that.'_

With each syllable, he exuded a tiny pulse of magic, searing and slamming into the Elf's mind with considerable force but clearly not enough to break through.

"What fun we will have together, dear Elf. When I return from collecting my supplies we shall get down to work... but first, there is one small matter we must attend to."

With speeds that startled the concussed Elf, he grasped her jaw with enough strength to dislocate it. The girl gasped slightly, mouth open long enough for him to pour a tiny measure of clear liquid. Almost immediately she recoiled, trying to spit out the potion but failed entirely. Her faint glow, the trace of power belonging to all of the Elves, faded entirely as her magic left her.

"Wonderful tool, is it not? Skilna Bragh, a mixture your people created quite some time ago. Blocks the mind and memories, and if you cannot think then you cannot cast a single spell. We can't have you running away now, can we?"

Her body seized, her black hair flailing like leaves during a storm, before she collapsed against the cot of her cell. All fight vanished but despite that, he felt her potent mental shield only increase in strength as she pulled into herself, away from her battered and drugged body.

It was in this revolting, weak state that he left her, choosing to walk away from her cell and make his way to his current chambers. He had matters of a variety to attend to, no matter how much he would enjoy torturing the Elf. Some things, like commanding the Urgals for Galbatorix came first, no matter how tedious that was. Still, at the very least he had his one time assistant to entertain him.

"How is he doing I wonder...?"

With that question in mind, Durza entered his office. It was a sparse space, grey bricks and no decorations to speak of. In the center was a large desk covered in a variety of letters. On either side of the room was a door, one leading to a personal escape and the other leading to one of his more private chambers, filled to the brim with magical artifacts and other interesting matters that was kept hush from the humans.

Before he even sat behind his desk, words of power escaped Durza's lips, words that he had taught no one, not even his old pet Galbatorix. In an instant, he found the tethers within himself, binding himself to his assistant and to the hundreds of Urgals under his control. Each manifested within his mind, kneeling on a stone floor as shadow and mist. The Urgal's didn't move when he approached them, they couldn't truly be apart of him, instead all he needed to do was whisper to them and his orders and demands would flow through their connection, poisoning their little hearts.

Then there was Yomir, who was chained to the floor despite his kneel. His image was sharper, a perfectly clear image. His eyes, red as Durza's own, wept silent tear of impotent fury.

In the shadow of the boy, chained up against the wall was another copy of Yomir, fainter and barely conscious. It was here that the brilliance of Durza's magic burned within him, he so enjoyed seeing the fruits of his labor lain out in front of him.

"Who would have guessed that all I had to do to leave you obedient and forgetful was steal your True Name... " Kneeling before the boy, Durza placed a hand on either side of his temple, pushing in just enough to feel the boy's fear, irritation, boredom and contemplation. Knowledge flowed through Durza, that of the boy's recent lessons and his current status on the road with the Urgals. "All seems to be in place it seems... " Dark rage flickered in Durza, he kept his voice low but did not make any effort to channel the emotion through the boy. "Do better, be better. You alone may be my salvation from Galbatorix, especially if I cannot gain enough knowledge from the elf or allegiance from whomever is the New Rider. I will not die and you will not fail."

Standing, Durza returned to the kneeling Urgals, taking only a moment to take in their knowledge.

"They will make it to Yazuac in a fortnight... wonderful timing. Perhaps my newest pet will show the promise I need of him there... hmmm yes, I do believe I will be watching ever so closely."

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This was a lot of fun to write. I was sort of lost for a bit but I am reinspired and on my way to making this amazing. We will not see Durza's perspective often, but I felt it was important here, especially if we are going to see why he made Yomir and what Yomir actually is. I wanted to capitalize on what he knew of his relationship with Galbatorix. **

**If you remember the First book, you will know what is coming up really soon... one of the most memorable parts of the book in my opinion, and one of the best parts. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	8. First Blood

**"**_... Nar Tulkhqa lead us to great victory, victory greater then any in our history." _The gruff language of the Urgal's echoed across the fire light grounds, and Yomir drank in every word, listening with some difficulty as his mentally translated each work into something he could understand. Slowly the story made sense and with it he gained a sense of respect for the Urgals, knowing what they in mass could accomplish. "_Years of imprisonment at the hands of humans, years of fighting and patience had granted him an understanding of what they were capable of. How they thought and how they would fight. Many tribes followed him, and as one they lured the army of Galbatorix into a narrow passage deep within the Mountain. From each side our Rams fell upon them, raining down a slaughter that even the gods trembled to behold. _

_Higher then even the tallest ram, Kull even, the bodies lay. Blood flowed like the rivers in spring, after the snow and ice melts. To this day, so many years later, you can still find bones under your feet. Armor and Swords and Coins of all types linger, growing with rust and breaking down, an eternal remnant of the time in which our people defeated even the great Galbatorix._

_So remember, younglings. Strength is important but so is passion and wisdom. The willingness to shrug off of struggle and embrace what you never expected. A leader, the greatest of our rams and dames, have these qualities be they Kull or not. So ask yourselves, do you have these qualities?  
_

_Will you be our next generation of leaders? Our newest Herndalls and Nars? Will you be remembered like Nar Tulkhqa?"_

Silence, only feeling and pride of a generation long past filled the air. Even from his place, sitting in the cross of two branches of a tree, Yomir felt touched by that story. A part of him, so dim, mourned the loss of his memories that he could not share in their honor of their own people. He had no people for he was not of any people, not any more. However, stronger then that, was a sense of purpose and pride that someone had defied the powers that ruled the land and won, even in a temporary way.

_'Pity they are all but owned by a Shade now. What would you think of your people now, Nar Tulkhqa? What would you think of me, friend or foe or fellow victim in a world where equality and freedom are rarities gifted only to those with_ _immeasurabl_e_ power, those who can take it.' _

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the chanter and his crowd of Urgals, their eyes filled with determination and tears. The Younglings were restless and eager, clearly won over by this attempt to rile them up, make them desperate to prove their mettle and fulfill the missions granted to them by Durza.

'_How cruel of them, manipulating their children so they are willing to do anything to measure up to a long dead man... goat..."_ He stopped, turning his head to the side as he considered his limited understanding of the nameless Urgal tongue. "..._ Ram? I am unsure what to say, regardless it is cruel.' _

Satisfied as he was going to get, he returned his total attention to the wooden attempt in his hand. It was supposed to be a bear, carved from the memories of the various beasts he had seen around the Spine. He could envision the beast almost perfectly, but sadly this did not translate to any actual reality on the piece of wood in his hands. He simply could not remember or imagine the strokes and cuts needed to make the shapes and curves and edges to make it actually take on the facsimile of a bear.

It irritated him as much as it calmed him.

"I'll get it eventually." He reassured himself, turning his attempt around, searching for new angles to see just where he went wrong. "I hope my attempt helps."

Silly as it would sound to others, he had started carving in an attempt to gain a level of closeness to the Urgals. Carving was a massive, unyielding and defining part of their culture. Sharing that, in at least a small way, would hopefully ease some of the intrepid loneliness that so filled his soul especially under the glorious cold of the dark moonless sky.

A failed attempt thus far, too ashamed and awkward he had yet to ask an Urgal for help. The entire point of his attempts wasted due to pointless fears and anxieties but there it was.

Much to his shame, he couldn't just shake it no matter how hard he tried.

And so he lay, snug against the tree behind him, holding a piece of wood and waiting for his mission to hit it's zenith.

A pathetic sight indeed.

…

The sound of mud squishing under boots signaled the first day of the rains as they fell, a sign of spring and something that made the trek to the plains unbearable even for Yomir. In fact everyone was so utterly miserable that the blanket of excitement and passionate brought about by the Chanter's tale had all but faded, leaving even the normally gruff but passionate Nar Garzhvog they trekked without complaint through the mud, hour after hour, then day after day. More and more of their passion sapped away despite newer stories told by the chanters, new speeches by Nar Garzhavog, and the promise of honor and the power to get a mate through proving mettle and worth to the Dams.

Rows upon rows of Urgals, hundreds strong with Yomir standing in the front grouping. Armed with staves and swords and spears, the lesser Urgals seemed almost childish next to the massive rows of Kulls that stood between the lesser Urgals in seemingly random patterns. Personally, Yomir gripped his axe, ready and willing to fight and do whatever he was going to do in this quest. The urge to survive and make more out of his situation was all but a constant prayer, chanted even as it rained, as the wind ripped through the tribes warriors leaving searing cuts on their skin.

It was that determination, shared between all of those around, that kept them going.

It was only after two weeks of these treks that they finally saw a village in the distance, nameless for all intents and purposes, and it was here that he understood the true purpose of their quest. A wisp of fear crumbled in his chest as he watched humans, almost the size of ants in the distance, move in an around their village. It was clear they had yet to notice their coming attackers.

There was no screaming, no worry, only people going about their daily life. Children playing in groups, adults pushing carts of various types in and around the village. In the distance, towards the large hills that rose throughout the plains, various farms lay in rest. With some focus he could see flares of light, heat from fire and flesh, signs of life both human and beast.

It was a center of human life, and seeing as he was once human the knowledge of the doom he would bring them was painful. Agonizing, torturous...

A fact that Garzhavog would confirm with a simple speech, a speech that ignited the passion of the Urgals and destroyed the joy within Yomir even as it solidified his determination.

Standing tall, towering above them all, Nar Garzhavog bellowed to his people. His voice wasn't rich, his words weren't complex, but his passion was beyond clear.

"It is here that you will gain honor, the honor you crave, need! Honor for your tribes, for your family, for yourselves and your dams both now and in the future. We ride for that honor, in the name of the great Durza! We slaughter our enemies! His enemies, let them know his name, our name and fight!"

Racious bellowing and cheers, pure passion in the form of sound echoed across the plains, finally alerting the innocent humans to the slaughter to come. Their sharp screams echoed back, piercing his soul and leaving him in near tears.

_'I pray that this is worth it.' _

They charged, a sound unlike any more, the very earth trembled as they flew across the plains. Powerful steps tearing up the lands and scaring the birds away in every direction. The stench of fear a palpable thing as they approached the terrified villagers. The collection of shacks and houses, most just barely more then a hut with a chimney, a sad reminder of the lack of corruption or influence these people could have on the world.

They were just surviving... but it didn't matter. Durza gave an order...

A women was the first death, gathering her terrified children close to her body as she struggled to lead them in the heart of the village. She was unable to stop the full body tackle of a Kull, slamming into her and stepping on young child, killing both on impact.

He expected bile to fill his mouth as he watched an unbridled slaughter of what had to be three hundred people, people that so scarcely fought back... but it didn't come. Cold washed over him, the taste of blood in air set his skin ablaze. His joints and muscles ached and with that power literally begging to surge forth, he gave in entirely.

Running ahead of the other Urgals, leaping over blood and nearly tripping over a patch of blood, he burst into a home. A women screamed out, rushing towards the back room while a bigger man, thin from the winter but built with powerful muscles, charged him.

"Traitor to your own kind, serving those monsters!" With scythe in hand, the man swung at him, snarling with frustration as Yomir dodged the almost sluggish speed of the entirely mortal creature before him. "We did nothing to you or those beasts!" His voice choked with tears as the sounds of growls and bellows and desperate screams filled the air. "You are a monster!"

Ducking under a strike, Yomir finally retaliated. With minimal force, he slammed his fist into the man's knee, the loud sharp snap filled the hut. His wife shrieked at the sound, and despite her fear she hurried to her husband who fell with a shocked gurgle of agony. Grabbing the man by the shoulder, he threw him at the women, slamming them both to the ground and knocking her out.

Shifting the axe in his hand, he approached the couple, taking in their fear and pain and waited for disgust to birth it's way in his heart.

Nothing came...

"Goodbye."

Their heads rolled across the floor as he swung.

"How easy it is... to murder them, as if they were nothing. Does this make me a beast, a monster as they said... I wonder..."

Turning on heel, he ran out of the building, and quickly chased down a young boy, maybe sixteen at most. The boy recoiled and screamed, the butchers knife in his hand knocked away with a simple swat to his wrist. His struggles ended in seconds as Yomir dug his face into the boy's throat, the rich warmth of his blood was tainted with delicious fear, numbing him even further to the horrors of his actions.

Empowered by the blood he threw the boy aside, and slew three others with swings of his axe, carving off arms and spilling one's guts. A devastating sight, but one he embraced.

The slaughter lasted less then half an hour before they were called back to the heart of the village. It was here that a sight finally shattered his calm.A spear stuck in the center of the village, surrounded by a pile of corpses. The body of an infant, still at it's mother's breast, had been thrust onto the spear. Taking a step back, the sight forced him to look around, take in the utter slaughter he participated in. Smoke and ash, countless bodies lay around in pieces.

_'Honor... there is no honor in this Nar Garzvahog, this was pointless slaughter of a people who could barely fight back...' _

Sadness didn't come, only an exhausted acceptance and the hope that it would be enough to keep Durza happy.

A cold rush, all too familiar, shot through him with that thought as Durza's presence returned to his mind. '_Oh I am very happy with your activities. You didn't kill too many, sadly, but you proved that you can do as your told. Always a valuable trait... Now I have a new task for you. This bloodlust has created several deserters, those who will leave the tribes to butcher their way across the land. _

_Your task, no matter how satisfying their actions would otherwise be for me, is to chase them down and tear them apart. One by one, with axe or dagger or arrow or your teeth. I want no survivors. I cannot have anyone free of my control, what message would that send to the others. No, there must be consequences. You have your orders. _

_I expect results."_

Shuddering at the touch of the Shade's evil consciousness, he still managed a nod. '_I understand... where am I to start? Do I wait for the others to leave first?' _

_"You will have too... now, be a good boy and do as your told. I do not want to have to punish you, my quota for torment is already a bit full at the moment but I can always make room for you."_

With that lovely reminder, Yomir walked to the closest house and sat, watching the majority of the Urgals slowly trickle out of the village, marching to slaughter another village he was sure. He wait there, occasionally drinking from one corpse or another, savoring the power and restoring his strength as much as he could until the Moon was high in the sky.

It was then and only then that he turned his senses to their highest level, heat markers dancing across his eyes as he saw the Urgal traitors Durza had spoken of...

He had a task and he would fulfill it.

It was his life or theirs, and he knew who he would pick... now and forever.

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This is a badass powerful chapter. Shorter then I'd like but still longer then most of the others. I am working on it but I do not own a copy of the first book, but I do own all of the others. A pain in the ass... **

**I hope you enjoyed this slaughter and you know where we are in canon... **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	9. AN

**This story is not over, I ordered a copy of Eragon since I only own the last three books. I need to recatch up with the first book so I can write certian scenes... please be patient, it comes in less then a week. **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	10. Meeting and Greetings Unexpected

It was oddly satisfying to chase down the bulk of the Urgals, watching them flee from him in shock or fear. Two actually pissed themselves in fear when he tackled them, using his smaller size to wrestle his body onto their backs and tear into their throats. The delicious reality of their fear was intoxicating. Four of them screeched when he cut them down with his axe. Only one, having been part of a pair, managed to hurt him by a harsh kick to his side and that was only due to having watched his comrade perish. It took him until well past noon to hunt the last of them down, the final of the bloodlust empowered Urgals had made his way back into the town of Yazuac.

"What is that... it doesn't smell like Urgal." On the wind, a scent, new and fresh and delicious crossed his nose. "Maybe it's human? It doesn't quite smell human though..." Curious, he ran back town, just in time to watch as the last Urgal knocked a clearly human boy off of a horse. "There's my target, but who are the others?" He watched as a much older man charged in on a brilliant horse, cleaving at the arrival of a second Urgal with a sword, fighting with ferocity and skilled the Yomir knew he personally lacked.

He sprinted towards them, desperate but cautious to obey his master's orders. Punishment was not something that he wanted to endure.

Within minutes he made it into the edge of the town, axe on hand and ready.

'_Stop... this boy... watch him, and the old man. See if they are threats.' _Durza's powerful voice lost it's smooth quality, turning harsh and guttural.

The boy ran from the Urgal chasing him, the one that had unseated him with a fierce blow, turning to shoot the Urgal just moments before the beast blocked his attempt at an attack and tackled him. They tumbled in a confused pile, but the boy rose quickly and shot away towards the old man, a vicious look in his eyes. Blood was spilt, from the old man and the Urgal, it's rich headiness was utterly intoxicating and delicious but still he focused on the battle before him.

The boy all but threw himself into an ally, and Yomir saw nothing but still he watched... and then he saw it, brilliant blue fire exploding from within the ally, covering and exploding with such force that it sent Yomir back a step as it rippled through the air.

"In the name of all the hells what was that?"

_'Magic... go to the boy and join him. He will need allies if he is to do as I wish... Galbatorix wishes for the boy to live, protect him but pretend to know nothing. I shall return your power to mask your thoughts, do not allow them entrance into your mind. Follow the training the Urgal witch gave you and protect yourself. I will be watching. Make whatever story you have too...' _

His vile master's presence faded from his mind and with it, he felt a rare agony crush down upon his mind, like his skin stretching over an impossible distance. Tearing and twisting and expanding until he thought it would tear...but it didn't. Instantly he realized there was a silence in his mind that there wasn't before, as if there had been a constant song before that was now silent.

It was a beautiful thing... and yet he missed the sound.

Realizing the boy was rushing to care for the injured and now barely conscious man, Yomir shot down towards him, an eager but tired smile on his face. His first human since he lost his memories, how utterly excited he was. He made a point to be loud, dramatic in his motions and much to his desire the boy turned to face him.

"Finally, another human... I was hoping to find some life here." With hands raise, Yomir approached the boy, watching as he continued lifted the man off of the horse with hesitance, making sure to be quick so he could defend if it came down to it. "I promise, I am not here to attack you, I only mean to help. He's bleeding fiercely, I can help patch him up."

The boy frowned, an arrow knocking onto his bow immediately. " Are you of this village?" His shaking hands and weary visage only reduced the power of his words.

"Yomir, and no... I hail from elsewhere. I was born a slave and ran, I have been searching for a place to call home. This place seemed a good fit but when I saw the damage I was horrified. I hunted down as many Urgals as I was able, I am sorry to say that these two were my last." He kicked the last of the bodies as he approached the boy, hands still open and raised. "Your friend will bleed out without aid."

"I-"

They both stopped as a massive blue dragon descended from the sky, looking with rage at all things before focusing on him with hate and rage. She was a beautiful creature but he was too terrified to admire that. Her throat unleashed a mighty hiss that left his heart frozen in genuine fear, looking at the beast and praying he was fast enough to outrun it if he needed too.

"Saphira! He's not our foe, he is like us... Please, help me." The man dropped his bow, moving to help the man before him. "Do you know which herbs are healing around here?"

The knowledge came to Yomir's mind, his lessons with the Herndall Ryuuga coming to mind quickly. "Yes, I do. I have some on me at all times. Give me a moment." With some practiced hands, and ignoring the glorious richness of the warm blood near his face, Yomir went to work, using his wine skin to clean the blood and some of the herbs in his pouch to pact and wrap the man's arm. " He will be alright, I think. We will need to clean it out better later, but for the time he will not bleed out. Better bandages wouldn't be out the question."

"We need to leave this place, Saphira will take him." The boy, who had still to reveal his name, spoke up as he tied a saddle onto the dragon Saphira. "Let's get him into the Saddle, she will fly him to safety while we ride. Can you ride?"

"I am not sure, I have been walking since I can remember..." He truly did not know if he could ride, cursing Durza once again for stealing so much of his memories. "but that doesn't matter, I am fast enough to keep up. Trust me you will not lose me." He knew it would, later, reveal himself to not be human but that did not matter. It would come out later regardless, might as well control the outcome.

The boy nodded, even as they lifted the man from the ground and placed him onto the Dragon's back, tying him into the saddle. " Thank you, My name is Eragon."

"Yomir as I already said. We need to hurry, your friend needs better care then I have given him."

There was a groan, drawing them to the old man. "Did Saphira make It in- Who are you?" His eyes were wide, even through the blurriness."

"Yomir, and be quiet you need your strength." Soothingly, he approached the man. " I am an ally, I promise. Now we must depart quickly."

The man frowned at him, taking in his appearance and weighing his options. "We will discuss this later... are you sure you want me to ride Saphira, I can ride Snowfire?"

Eragon shook his head. "Not with that arm, this way if you faint you won't fall."

"I am honored." Then with his non-injured arm, he wrapped around the Dragon's neck. The beast flapped once, then twice then rose into the sky and flew off. Eragon quickly tied the horses together and as one they marched away, the horses at a firm trot that Yomir easily kept up with. The Urgals traveled far faster far more often and so this was effortless.

They stopped only once, to refill their skins and let the horses drink at a river, before continuing on the long path forward. The tension that filled the air was fierce, the boy's worry and Yomir's planning for the lies to come made conversation entirely mute at that point. At some point, the silent Eragon turned to him, just as the sun started to set.

"There is a place to rest not far away, we make our way there."

"How do you know that, are you familiar with the area?" he looked skyward, focusing his vision to get a grand vision of Saphira's underbelly. " Or are you able to speak with your Dragon mentally?" At Eragon's panic filled look, Yomir laughed lightly. "I saw the fire Eragon and I know Dragon's are magical, everyone does. I have training to block mental attacks." He closed off his mind, focusing on the pulse of heat he felt in his own chest and the rhythmic beat of his heart, hoping like Herndall Ryuuga taught him, It would be enough. "It was just a good guess."

Eragon just nodded. "I understand... you must have been lucky to find someone to teach you."

"Not exactly… but it helps."

"""

They found their way into a lovely clearing, well hidden in the woods, just as night fell. A smokeless fire already existed when they approached, and the injured man sat poking the fire with a stoic eye. Saphira lay curled near him, raising her head as they approached, looking at Eragon with a fierceness and love that was clear despite the species gap.

He really got his first good, not terrified look at her and she was lovely. Her scales were a variety of blue, not all the same. Her back was covered in various spikes of various sizes. As he had noticed earlier her under scales were a lighter blue almost the color of sky when compared to the dark blue of her back and wings. Even her eyes, slitted downward, were beautiful and blue.

She was a goddess in the form of a dragon.

Not bothering to wait for permission, Yomir took on the role of a healer and approached the other man, kneeling towards him. " I am not an expert medic, I hope my efforts did not cause you greater pain."

The man shook his head. "No, it does not. The herbs numbed most of the pain but I need a new bandage. Thank you for your efforts, Yomir…"

"Not a problem... what is your name, sir?"

"Brom… and it seems I owe you a debt." he turned to Eragon. " Both of you. Let us eat first however, then we can discuss everything that happened while I was unconscious."

It was amusing, but after sharing their tales, Brom's heat seemed to rise and not fall. He seemed angry and less proud then he was before.

"Have you used this power before?" he asked Eragon.

"No. Do you know anything about it?"

"A little. You should be proud; Not many can escape unscathed from slaying their first Urgal. " His tone changed. "But the manner in which you did it was very dangerous. You could have destroyed yourself and the whole town."

Eragon's own heat spiked, anger in his eyes. " It's not like I had a choice, The urgals were almost upon me. If I had waited, they would have chopped me into pieces."

The old man chomped hard against the stinking pipe in his mouth. "You didn't have any idea what you were doing."

"Then tell me!"

"Not to be rude, but he makes a valid point." They turned to him, seemingly having forgotten he was there. "I saw much from a distance, your friend here would have been less then dead had he not cast that spell. I know magic enough to know that whatever gift he has was awakened from the fear and near death he experienced. It helps no one to argue about it. He has the gift and needs to be taught. Teach him what you know of the Ancient Language and be done with it."

Brom sneered at him. "What do you know of magic?"

"Enough to know the basic rules, and to know that I cannot use it. I tried but I lack the power to tap into the energy of my self. I know a few words in the language and I know it rings true regardless of what one says."

The man sighed. " You speak the truth... "

Eragon took the moment to speak. " I feel as if I have been thrust into a world with strange rules that no one will explain."

" We might as well sleep. You are welcome to rest with us Yomir, as a thanks for your deeds. As for you Eragon, stop your badgering. This magic- For it is magic- Has rules like the rest of the world. If you break the rules, the penalty is death, without exception. Your deeds are limited by your strength, the words you know and your imagination."

"What do you mean words?"

"He means" Yomir stepped in. "That there is an entire language through which one channels magic and it is that language that you must speak properly to cast spells of merit. I imagine that means you will be learning how to speak this language. What word did you use to cast the spell you did earlier?"

Eragon thought on it. " Brisingr."

That made Brom nod. "I thought so. Brisingr is from an ancient language that all living things used to speak. However it was forgotten over time and went unspoken in Algaseia for eons before the Elves brought it back from over the seas. They taught it to the other races, who used it for making and doing powerful things. Now enough for that, it is time for sleep."

His eyes turned towards Yomir, a clear sign that he did not want to continue this conversation with someone that could over hear it. Someone that he did not trust...

A total stranger...

_"This was too abrupt, Lord Durza. They will never trust me... ' _

The presence of his master appeared in his mind, a thrum of power. '_Then I will have to make it so they will have no choice... but for the time, prove yourself. Make them want to trust you... your a smart boy. Figure it out.' _

Sighing, Aaron turned towards the Dragon and bowed. " It is an honor. I know I am a stranger but you have my oath, I will never speak of the Dragon's presence. I can only imagine what would happen if the wrong person found out. I would be willing to cast an oath in the ancient language. I know I was never meant, through your actions, to see her or know the truth." He smiled, kind and humble as he turned to Brom, who nodded. "I am a skilled warrior, and I too have my own secrets... I...I am an experiment by the Shade Durza, while a slave." He saw the shock and awe in their eyes, their distrust and the movement of their hands to their blades. He let out a tear, false though it was. "He... he did things to me, horrible things that have fogged my memory. I search for answers, and with such power perhaps you can help me find them. Please..."

The older man, Brom, frowned at him. "If you accept the oath... then perhaps... perhaps you can journey with us. Should you be truly a powerful warrior then it would be a fools choice to banish you for something beyond your control."

"Thank you..."

He spoke the oath, swearing to secrecy and truth of his loss of memories and search for identity. He even was able, due to his lack of orders, to agree that he had no interest in harming them. It was enough that Brom seemed to calm down, especially when he admitted through said oath to serve himself first and foremost.

It was enough that Brom actually smiled at him.

"Welcome to our little group, Yomir. I am sorry for the lack of warm welcome but trust is not easily given in these hard times."

He waved off the concern. " I more then understand... thank you for giving me a chance. Now I do believe you are right, I for one am exhausted. Let us sleep."

* * *

**Chapter over, tell me what you think in the reviews. **

**This is getting hard to write, I hope my inspiration doesn't fizzle out.. .**

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **


	11. On the way to Daret

**Is the integration good? Does Yomir feel organic and natural in this world? Please some feedback is needed here... **

**Do you like his power, skill and behavior? **

**Please respond. **

* * *

"Why do you think those two Urgals were still in Yazuac?" asked Eragon, after they had been on the trail for a while. Yomir, walking along side them at a good pace, peeked his ears up and listened eagerly to their conversation. He was glad to find people who actually did not want to kill him to be around, it was something he feared he'd never get the chance to embrace again "There doesn't seem to be any reason for them to have stayed behind."

"I suspect they deserted the main group to loot the town. What makes it odd is that, as far as I know, Urgals have gathered in force only two or three times in history. It's unsettling that they are doing it now."

Feeling it a grand time to speak, Yomir sprinted a little ahead, turning to face them whilst walking backwards. "There were actually a lot more, nearly twenty or so. They have been attacking villages near and far for some time and will continue to do so I imagine. This time I saw those stragglers, of which I slew them personally. They were delicious."

Both men froze, looking at him with a delicate fear and discomfort.

Brom, being the braver, spoke up. "Delicious?"

"Yes, part of whatever Durza did to me. I need blood to survive, a fair portion each and every day. I lack venom, so if it is no trouble, I can merely feed on whatever you kill and cook. It will be no great struggle to maintain my needs." He offered a smile, hoping to disarm their terror and discomfort. "I have never fed on people, only animals and Urgals. Worry not."

There was moment of silence as they continued on their trek towards who knew where.

Then, out of nowhere, Eragon spoke up. "Do you think the Ra'zac caused the attack?" The word, Ra'Zac, was unfamiliar to Yomir and yet felt as familiar as his own breathe. He focused in on the boy with frightening intensity, knowing beyond words that it would be a potent fact that would shape his life.

Brom frowned. "I don't know. The best thing we can do is continue away from Yazuac at the fastest pace we can muster. Besides, this is the direction the Ra'zac went: south."

Eragon agreed. "We still need provisions, however. Yomir needs blood to survive. Is there another town nearby?"

Brom shook his head. "No, but Saphira can hunt for us if we must survive on meat alone. This swath of trees may look small to you, but there are plenty of animals in it. The river is the only source of water for many miles around, so most of the plains animals come here to drink. We won't starve."

Eragon remained quiet, satisfied with Brom's answer. As they rode, loud birds darted around them, and the river rushed by peacefully. It was a noisy place, full of life and energy. It agitated Yomir's senses, the desire to rip and tear and feast on the level of blood he had just the day before was strong. "What are the Ra'Zac? The name rings in my mind, a bell that tolls in the dark. I can hear it but see nothing."

"Monsters," grumbled Brom. "Beasts that feed, much like you do, on the living. Their preferred food is human, from blood to marrow to muscle, they have no limitations. They are more like insects or birds, born the size of humans. Their breath is toxic, binding the mind and flesh. They cannot use magic but are unaffected by mental attacks of any variety. Their strength and speed is incredible and they are without mercy. If you choose to travel with us further, as I feel you will, then you will encounter them. I will need to learn of your full capabilities later, so I know how you may fight them if it comes down to it. " He scratched his chin, then turned his gaze towards Eragon. "I suppose you're still wondering about this magic. The fact that you've discovered it presents a thorny problem. Few know it, but every Rider could use magic, though with differing strengths. They kept the ability secret, even at the height of their power, because it gave them an advantage over their enemies. Had everyone known about it, dealing with common people would have been difficult. Many think the king's magical powers come from the fact that he is a wizard or sorcerer. That's not true; it is because he's a Rider."

"What's the difference? Doesn't the fact that I used magic make me a sorcerer?"

"Not at all! A sorcerer, like a Shade, uses spirits to accomplish his will. That is totally different from your power. Nor does that make you a magician, whose powers come without the aid of spirits or a dragon. And you're certainly not a witch or wizard, who get their powers from various potions and spells. Which brings me back to my original point: the problem you've presented. Young Riders like yourself were put through a strict regimen designed to strengthen their bodies and increase their mental control. This regimen continued for many months, occasionally years, until the Riders were deemed responsible enough to handle magic. Up until then, not one student was told of his potential powers. If one of them discovered magic by accident, he or she was immediately taken away for private tutoring. It was rare for anyone to discover magic on his own," he inclined his head toward Eragon, "though they were never put under the same pressure you were."

"Then how were they finally trained to use magic?" asked Eragon. "I don't see how you could teach it to anyone. If you had tried to explain it to me two days ago, it wouldn't have made any sense."

Yomir hoped the man would continued, hoping that perhaps through his teachings perhaps he too could master the talent so frustratingly was denied him by his curse at the hands of Durza.

"The students were presented with a series of pointless exercises designed to frustrate them. For example, they were instructed to move piles of stones using only their feet, fill ever draining tubs full of water, and other impossibilities. After a time, they would get infuriated enough to use magic. Most of the time it succeeded. What this means," Brom continued, "is that you will be disadvantaged if you ever meet an enemy who has received this training. There are still some alive who are that old: the king for one, not to mention the elves. Anyone of those could tear you apart with ease."

"I will protect him then." Both turned to him, so he gave a toothy grin, a single new thread of his mask appearing before his eyes. "I happen to like Eragon, he seems a find lad." He kept a smile on his face, never showing the mild desperation he felt at the notion of the first humans he met dying even if Durza would probably be the one to end them. The monster that owned him was a merciless beast and had an interest in them and that alone signal death even if he had not made a motion to harm them as of yet or complained that Yomir was bound by magical oath to not harm them.

Eragon flushed. "Lad? You cannot be any more then fourteen summers?"

"Actually your almost right, I think. I cannot remember my actual age, as I said my mind is in a fog. I remember so little of my past, it is as if someone scraped it clean." His smile deepened." That doesn't change the fact that you are literally the first people I have seen in months, since I lost my memory in fact. I have little interest in losing the little structure and company gained through such unusual measures."

"No matter how powerful you may be, you are mortal and there is only so much one can do against magic. There isn't time for formal instruction, but we can do much while we travel," said Brom. "I know many techniques you can practice that will give you strength and control, but you cannot gain the discipline the Riders had overnight. You," he looked at Eragon humorously, "will have to amass it on the run. It will be hard in the beginning, but the rewards will be great. It may please you to know that no Rider your age ever used magic the way you did yesterday with those two Urgals."

Eragon smiled at the praise. "Thank you. Does this language have a name?"

Brom laughed. "Yes, but no one knows it. It would be a word of incredible power, something by which you could control the entire language and those who use it. People have long searched for it, but no one has ever found it."

"I still don't understand how this magic works," said Eragon. "Exactly how do I use it?"

Brom looked astonished. "I haven't made that clear?"

"No."

Yomir, seeing further opportunity to integrate into the conversation and keep himself relevant, spoke up. " Magic works through the ancient language and the innate power within your body and mind." Eragon turned to him, looking at him with curiosity and confusion. "The word give direction to the power you draw upon. You say fire and you offer the power to make it so. It is the basics of magic, I lack the capacity to draw on power from my mind even if I can block mental attacks."

"So I'm limited by my knowledge of this language?"

"Exactly," crowed Brom. "Also, as your friend explained yesterday, one cannot practice deceit while speaking it."

Eragon shook his head. "That can't be. People always lie. The sounds of the ancient words can't stop them from doing that."

Brom cocked an eyebrow and said, "Fethrblaka, eka weohnata néiat haina ono. Blaka eom iet lam." A bird suddenly flitted from a branch and landed on his hand. It trilled lightly and looked at them with beady eyes. Yomir smelt no fear on the beast, no trace of despair or shock. Just genuine trust, even it's heart beat stayed constant. A remarkable feat all it's own. After a moment he said, "Eitha," and it fluttered away.

"How did you do that?" asked Eragon in wonder.

"I promised not to harm him. He may not have known exactly what I meant, but in the language of power, the meaning of my words was evident. The bird trusted me because he knows what all animals do, that those who speak in that tongue are bound by their word."

"And the elves speak this language?"

"Yes."

"So they never lie?"

"Not quite," admitted Brom. "They maintain that they don't, and in a way it's true, but they have perfected the art of saying one thing and meaning another. You never know exactly what their intent is, or if you have fathomed it correctly. Many times they only reveal part of the truth and withhold the rest. It takes a refined and subtle mind to deal with their culture."

'_Can I do that? I think it is an art that would come in handy to deal with Durza and his control over me, if nothing else I could insult him and get away with it. It might do my soul a great deal of good.' _

Eragon considered that. "What do personal names mean in this language? Do theygive power over people?"

Brom's eyes brightened with approval. "Yes, they do. Those who speak the language have two names. The first is for everyday use and has little authority. But the second is their true name and is shared with only a few trusted people. There was a time when no one concealed his true name, but this age isn't as kind. Whoever knows your true name gains enormous power over you. It's like putting your life into another person's hands. Everyone has a hidden name, but few know what it is."

Yomir froze. " How does one find this name?" He panicked, fearing that this name may have been how Durza controlled him so potently. It seemed to resonate within him, like the bell in the dark, he knew that he knew of this concept.

"Elves instinctively know theirs... No one else has that gift. The human Riders usually went on quests to discover it—or found an elf who would tell them, which was rare, for elves don't distribute that knowledge freely," replied Brom. He turned to Yomir and considered. "If you are truly an experiment, it is likely that your name has shifted greatly due to whatever has happened to you. I can sense enough to know you are no longer mortal or human, your name would have shifted with this to redefine your existence."

"I'd like to know mine," Eragon said wistfully.

"As would I. " Yomir added.

Brom's brow darkened. "Be careful. It can be a terrible knowledge. To know who you are without any delusions or sympathy is a moment of revelation that no one experiences unscathed. Some have been driven to madness by that stark reality. Most tryto forget it. But as much as the name will give others power, so you may gain power over yourself, if the truth doesn't break you."

"I still wish to know," said Eragon, determined.

"You are not easily dissuaded. That is good, for only the resolute find their identity, but I cannot help you with this. It is a search that you will have to undertake on your own." Brom moved his injured arm and grimaced uncomfortably. "Yomir, since you are incapable of using Magic, you may be unable to find your true name. Eragon's education, as I am sure you can understand, must come first. He is the first rider free of Galbatorix in a century. He is the hope of countless many, and for that reason I will be focusing on him. However, should you prove yourself to our cause, then I may teach you what I can. You may sit in our lessons and learn what you can, but I need for you to be silent unless you see a rare point. Is that clear?"

Yomir nodded, understanding the man's point precisely even if some part of him ached at the suggestion of his unimportance. "Of course... however I ask that I am allowed to spar with him while you are injured. I need to maintain my skills and I am sure that he would like to do that same."

Brom nodded. " That is a sound suggestion."

"Why can't you or I heal that with magic?" asked Eragon, looking curiously as Yomir as if wondering what he could possibly do in combat.

Brom blinked. "No reason—I just never considered it because it's beyond m ystrength. You could probably do it with the right word, but I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"I could save you a lot of trouble and pain," protested Eragon.

"I'll live with it," said Brom flatly. "Using magic to heal a wound takes just as much energy as it would to mend on its own. I don't want you tired for the next few days. You shouldn't attempt such a difficult task yet."

"Still, if it's possible to fix your arm, could I bring someone back from the dead?"

The question surprised Brom, but he answered quickly, "Remember what I said about projects that will kill you? That is one of them. Riders were forbidden to try to resurrect the dead, for their own safety. There is an abyss beyond life where magic means nothing. If you reach into it, your strength will flee and your soul will fade into darkness. Wizards, sorcerers, and Riders—all have failed and died on that threshold. Stick with what's possible—cuts, bruises, maybe some broken bones—but definitely not dead people."

'_Then what does that make me, if not a dead man living on the fruits of the living?' _

Eragon frowned. "This is a lot more complex than I thought."

"Exactly!" said Brom. "And if you don't understand what you're doing, you'll try something too big and die." He twisted in his saddle and swooped down, grabbing a handful of pebbles from the ground. With effort, he righted himself, then discarded all but one of the rocks. "See this pebble?"

"Yes."

"Take it." Eragon did and stared at the unremarkable lump. It was dull black, smooth, and as large as the end of his thumb. There were countless stones like it on the trail. "This is your training."

Eragon looked back at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," said Brom impatiently. "That's why I'm teaching you and not the other way around. Now stop talking or we'll never get anywhere. What I want you to do is lift the rock off your palm and hold it in the air for as long as you can. The words you're going to use arestenr reisa . Say them."

"Stenr reisa."

"Good. Go ahead and try."

Eragon focused sourly on the pebble, searching his mind for any hint of the energy that had burned in him the day before. The stone remained motionless as he stared at it, sweating and frustrated. Yomir watched, sensing no burst of energy or change in the world, even as he focused on safely walking backwards, he felt tha the would sense something, any sort of sign that there was a change in the world. He had done so when Herndall Ryuuga cast spells.

Finally, Eragon crossed his arms and snapped, "This is impossible."

"No," said Brom gruffly. "I'll say when it's impossible or not. Fight for it! Don't give in this easily. Try again."

Frowning, Eragon closed his eyes. A moment passed, then something changed around him. Yomir felt it, that rush of something akin to heat. He focused on Eragon and saw the blue and greenish light of heat around his palm shift, turning into a bright white before he gasped out. "Stenr reisa," The pebble wobbled into the air over his faintly glowing palm. He struggled to keep it floating, but the light of his palm, the radiant heat faded quickly and The pebble dropped to his hand with a soft plop, and his palm returned to normal. He looked a little tired, but grinned from his success.

"Not bad for your first time," said Brom, Yomir would have said more but he knew he was to be quiet and so he observed.

"Why does my hand do that? It's like a little lantern."

"No one's sure," Brom admitted. "The Riders always preferred to channel their power through whichever hand bore the gedwëy ignasia. You can use your other palm, but it isn't as easy." He looked at Eragon for a minute. "I'll buy you some gloves at the next town, if it isn't gutted. You hide the mark pretty well on your own, but we don't want anyone to see it by accident. Besides, there maybe times when you won't want the glow to alert an enemy."

Looking curiously, Yomir for the first time saw the mark they spoke of. It was like a tiny dragon, spiraling inwards on itself, seared into Eragon's palm. For some reason it seemed familiar and he wondered if he had ever met Galbatorix, wondering if the man had been apart of his life before he lost his memories...

"Do you have a mark of your own?"

"No." His heart skipped a beat, heat flared around him... a lie was cast from his lips. Yomir could not help but wonder why. " Only Riders have them," said Brom. "Also, you should know that magic is affected by distance, just like an arrow or a spear. If you try to lift or move something a mile away, it'll take more energy than if you were closer. So if you see enemies racing after you from a league away, let them approach before using magic. Now, back to work! Try to lift the pebble again."

"Again?" asked Eragon weakly.

"Yes! And this time be quicker about it."

While Eragon continued his work, Brom turned to him. "So, tell me, what do you remembered Yomir? What powers do you have, other then remarkable stamina and speed and the power to sustain yourself on the blood of the living."

The words sent a shiver through Yomir, and he considered his options... how much he could and should share with the man before him. How much was too much, how much would cost him with Durza? '_Hiding too much would only breed suspicion... I need to be honest, as in a fight I would be revealed in moments...' _Sighing, he shrugged. "I am remarkably strong, though to what level I cannot confirm. I have killed Urgals with my bear hand, I can tear through softer metal and hard wood. I can see heat, and apparently magic as I could see the radiance of the Magic your apprentice used when he levitated the rock. I never thought to use it when I learning or attempting to learn magic, so I did not realize that until now... I heal fast as well. A bruise will fade within hours, a cut depends on it's size and how often I feed... to be entirely honest I am not sure, something I can confirm through oath, just what I can do. Perhaps we can evaluate while training?"

Brom nodded. " That seems fair... do be warned, I will never give you my full attention, as I mentioned Eragon requires more time and attention. Your time with us will depend solely on your capacity for being helpful. So I ask, why are you with us now?"

"Honestly, it just nice to have someone to be around... I was lonely... and on some level I feel that I may gain answers by being around you, to my past and future. Perhaps it is the work of the gods, or perhaps it is chance but I sense that you are the keys to my future."

""""

That evening, the dull light of the descending sun, Yomir stood across from Eragon. Brom offered Yomir his own fake blade, carved delicately from wood, ensuring that they could not cut each other and then allowed them to face each other. Twisting his blade, Yomir fell into a loose stance, feeling his body ache for movement and power, knowingly embracing the beauty of combat and a hunter's pleasure. Eragon would not be easy prey, he saw the right away, the boy falling into his own perfect stance with a determined focus to his eyes...

There wasn't a signal, but at the same time, both moved. Eragon lashed out with a swipe, and the much shorter Yomir ducked under the strike before lashing out with an upward strike. He was not as familiar with a sword but he knew the basic movements from his time with the Urgals, knocking into Eragon's sword with enough force that it went flying upwards. With an almost blur of speed, he knocked the boy into the dirt, standing over him with a smug look.

Eragon flushed. " That was uncouth."

"Perhaps, but I warned you that I am remarkably strong. I prefer my axe in truth, but my speed and strength cannot be beaten by you yet... but I suspect a better swordsmen, like Brom would win. Care to try?"

Brom nodded, taking Eragon's blade for a moment from the ground. "Yes, do not go easy on me. I am as capable with my left hand as I am my right." And he was, in the moment they started to fight it was clear. Brom started with a jab, Yomir knocked it aside with a barely fast enough slash before jabbing himself, only for Brom to move the side and shove the point of the blade into Yomir's palm, using the leverage point to knock the sword from his hand. "Your strong, my arm radiates pain just from your slash, but your too used to your strength. In swordplay you will need to be more accustomed to delicate movements, measuring your strength... still fighting someone with your powers will make you good practice for Eragon..."

_'If I continue to travel with them, I may become a greater warrior indeed... maybe I will gain the freedom I seek... one can only hope.' _

""""

'_The boy is not human, no human can muster such strength.' _Brom wasn't not lying to say that he felt pain radiate down his arm and that was from just a single block. The boy's every movement was predatory, reminding him so much of Durza it was alarming and yet he did not radiate the magic needed to be a Shade. Whatever he was the boy had to be monitored... and that was why he kept him close.

_I will discover your secrets soon enough boy, and I pray for your sake that you truly mean no harm...' _

The days followed the same pattern. First, Eragon struggled to learn the ancient words and to manipulate the pebble, though each success brought Brom great pride. Then, in the evening, he trained against either Yomir or Brom himself with the fake swords. It was clear from his stance that his son was in constant discomfort, but he gradually began to change, almost without noticing. Soon the pebble no longer wobbled when he lifted it. He mastered the first exercises Brom gave him and undertook harder ones, and his knowledge of the ancient language grew.

Yomir, to his credit, began to speak to them in the Ancient language as much as he could, taking each word and lesson he overheard to heart. His son began to do the same and it seemed to do a massive service. However, to his discomfort, the boys developed a quick bond. Yomir was friendly and kind, praising his son for every success and offering any tips or advice he could be it about combat or pronunciation. Eragon did the same only with Archery and combat, something Yomir seemed to deeply appreciate, as though he could pull back a bow safely despite his strength, it was too forceful and not accurate enough to be reliable.

In their sparring, Eragon gained confidence and speed, striking like a snake. His blows became heavier, and his arm no longer trembled when he warded off attacks. The clashes lasted longer as he learned how to fend off Brom. Now, when they went to sleep, Eragon was not the only one with bruises. Yomir, being far stronger then either of them combined, grew at a similar rate in combat and quickly learned to moderate his strength, taking advantage of the drastic increase in range he had with a sword. His skill with his axe grew as well, as Brom led the boy through more proper Dwarven stances and training methods.

If he was being honest, he enjoyed teaching then both.

Saphira continued to grow as well, but more slowly than before. Her extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept her fit and healthy. She was taller than the horses now, and much longer. Because of her size and the way her scales sparkled, she was altogether too visible. Brom and Eragon worried about it, but they could not convince her to allow dirt to obscure her scintillating hide.

Yomir laughed at their attempts and gasped when he learned the Saphira could speak like a person, he was amazed and a little fearful when he learned that she could speak mentally. His mind was protected with a vast wall so powerful, the sound of a heartbeat echoing within, that not even Saphira could breach it to speak to him.

They continued south, tracking the Ra'zac. It frustrated, to some of Brom's personal amusement, Eragon that no matter how fast they went, the Ra'zac always stayed a few days ahead of them. At times he was ready to give up, but then they would find some mark or print that would renew his hope.

There were no signs of habitation along the Ninor or in the plains, leaving the four companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. Finally, they neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac.

It was the night before they reached Daret that Yomir finally revealed his naked flesh, as Eragon slept, to Brom. He took off his shirt, mending it with needle and thread he had stored away. He looked on with horror, seeing countless scars dance in the shadows of their night fire, and realized from personal experience that none of them were naturally created...

They were the product of torture...

And finally he started to believe the boy was a product of Durza's abuse. Not that he trusted him as of yet, but he knew the boy would have reason to flee his captor... and that set within Brom the possibility that just maybe they had gained an ally... one with skill, power and a reason to fight with and for them...

He hoped to all the gods that they had, for Yomir was a powerful being comparable to an elf physically... if he became an enemy he would be a hard one to fight and so Brom kept a constant hand on his ring, Aren, and the store of power within, knowing he would have to kill the boy to stop him and he may not be able to do it without magic.

He just hoped he never had to...

* * *

**Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.  
Expect more updates, I have more time and practice for this story and I want it to be great. **

**Do you like the integration of Yomir? They accepted Murtagh in like five seconds so why not Yomir, if only to keep an eye on the experiment of Durza… **

**Love, your Ninja Overlord, **

**Mika. **

"


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